Eko
by SymphonyinA
Summary: After fleeing to Norway and getting married, Christine and Raoul only want to be rid of their demons. With a baby on the way, they are hopeful. The past, however, will not let them be. R/C, post-canon Leroux, art by corpsepixie on tumblr
1. Chapter 1

**Cover picture is by corpsepixie on tumblr, and one of my all-time favorite pieces of fanart! It is used with permission by the artist.**

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

A white cottage rested on a green hill dusted with snow. A few flowers were daring to bloom through the cold, and their stems swayed in the breeze. The sea lapped at a rocky shore just beyond.

A woman in blue appeared on the doorstep. She shut her eyes and savored the wind that threatened to dismantle her gold chignon. The door opened behind her, and a man's arms wrapped about her waist. She knotted their hands and leaned back against him, shutting her eyes with a contented smile and a gentle sigh.

"I have a surprise for you," she whispered.

He kissed her twice on her cheek and neck. "Is it a burnt soufflé again?"

She laughed. "No, no, much better than that... You're almost touching it."

He glanced down at where his hands rested on her abdomen. His blue eyes widened.

"Y-you're-"

"We're," she corrected.

"Expecting?"

She nodded. Their faces brightened as they turned to each other. Then, without warning, he scooped her up and spun her around.

"Don't make me dizzy!" she shrieked, giggling.

He set her down and peppered her with kisses. She wrapped her arms about him.

"I'm so excited," she whispered.

"I didn't know it might happen so soon," he said, continuing to kiss her. "We've only been married four months now."

She shrugged then kissed him back.

"I've suspected for a month now," she told him. "So I'd say he's due-"

"He?"

"Boy or girl, whichever it is, is due in the fall. I hope it's a boy, though. A little boy with beautiful blue eyes."

"Well," he declared, teasing one of her curls between his fingertips, "I want a girl."

"You may be the only man in the world who's ever said that."

He waved away her words, "My father wanted daughters. After my... brother, he got two."

His face fell in memory, but he shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

"Raoul," Christine whispered, "do you want to talk about it now?"

"Not now, not after such wonderful news... but we both have our demons."

"We do. At least mine are in the past, far away in Paris."

He cupped her face in his hands. "I don't believe that."

She moved her hands to her womb. "Perhaps baby will help us with our new life here, help us forget."

"I hope so."

...

The summer dissolved the lingering snow. Christine spent her days being coddled and fussed over by Mamma Valerius and Raoul. They made sure she had a glass of milk a day, if she could stomach it, and gave her extra portions of everything, even when she protested. Of course, she was grateful, but she wasn't used to being fussed over.

Her freedom had also drastically changed due to her state. They kept telling her to rest. She was bursting with energy at one moment then passed out on the sofa the next, with each coming without warning.

Raoul was growing anxious. He spent hours worrying over everything that could possibly go wrong, so that he could prepare them both for it. It was driving Christine mad.

"We can keep a warm fire," Christine sighed as she ran her hand over the white cradle in the corner of their room. Raoul had been exceptionally anxious that day.

"Yes," he replied, "we'll take shifts. But will the smoke be bad for her lungs, do you think?"

She sighed irritably, "Smoke goes up the chimney. He will be _fine_."

"What if the house catches fire?"

"The house can always catch fire! If it does, however unlikely that occurrence, we'll simply pick him up and carry him outside! Goodness, Raoul, I love you, but don't you know that telling me everything that could go wrong is making _me_ anxious? At least keep it to yourself... Babies are fragile, yes, but it's no use worrying. Whatever happens happens, and we will love and care for him with everything we have, yes?"

"I know." He averted his eyes.

She patted his cheek. "It's all right... We're both nervous is all."

"And excited."

She pulled his hands to her growing abdomen. "Yes. Excited."

He couldn't help fretting still. As the summer wore on, they worked on their plot of land to grow potatoes. She insisted on planting flowers, too, which Raoul took a fondness to. Often she would wake up from naps and peer out the window to find him nurturing the soil, then smile to herself, imagining a little figure beside him, helping water the earth and plant the seeds.

"How are we going to care for her?" he asked as they planted more flowers outside one day.

Christine brushed the soil from her hands onto her apron, then drew a hand across her forehead.

"We have quite enough," she replied, sitting back to admire the bright blossoms. "Mamma's money can keep us comfortable until you find work you like, and I want to farm a little more next year, so we can grow a lot of our own food... We're fine."

He rubbed the back of his neck, then sighed, "I want to go back to sea. I want to support us like that."

"I'm afraid of you doing that," she replied, patting the soil. "It's dangerous-"

"Just by the coast. I'll stay near here. I won't go whaling or anything like that."

"I understand... It's the perfect place for you, but that doesn't mean the thought doesn't frighten me, of you caught in a storm or-"

He kissed her cheek. "I know what I'm doing. I've done it for years and come back safe and sound."

"I know you have..."

She dug another hole for the flowers.

...

When the bright grass of summer began to brown, Christine felt her child for the first time kicking and squirming inside her. Everything was prepared in advance, and it could be two months or four before the baby arrived. They were ready, though, certainly Christine.

"I look like a seal," she lamented one morning.

"Seals are adorable," Raoul replied, kissing her forehead. "I just saw the loveliest one sunbathing on a rock outside."

"I _feel_ like a seal," she moaned, extending her arms out where she lay on the sofa. "My feet are swollen up, too, and then I wake up at night because he beats me up on the inside."

"Have you tried lying down differently?"

"Don't ask me questions like that when you know very well that I have," she retorted irritably. "I know I used to say that he was dancing- especially when I sing- but heavens above, I think he must be irritated with me most days!"

"Is it painful?"

"Not exactly... Oh, I just want him here! It's maddening not to be able to hold him and see him."

"Her."

"Oh, you," she said, nudging him playfully.

He kneeled down and began kneading her swollen feet. She sighed in relief, then swallowed.

"Have a been a good wife lately?" she asked.

He glanced up at her. "What on _earth_ do you mean?"

"Well... I'm always irritable, and I never feel like... making love anymore-"

"Shh, blame the baby."

She started crying softly. "I shouldn't get upset with you like I do-"

"You're just tired because the baby won't let you sleep," he explained, now quite gifted at dealing with her strange moods, "and your poor feet swell up, and your baby decides what you eat. Like yesterday, remember? The chocolate herring?"

"You have no idea how... good it actually tasted," she laughed through tears. Then she sobbed out, "I love you so much, Raoul."

"I love you, too... and I don't require anything but that, you know."

"You're the most wonderful husband in the whole world."

"That may not be wholly true-"

"Accept it. I'm irritable, now go on and say yes, that you are."

"All right, I am. And you are the most wonderful wife."

She smiled, then glanced out the window in thought. Her eyes welled up one last time.

"I don't wake up because of the baby," she whispered, her voice trembling.

"What do you mean?"

"I-I thought that... it was better that way."

"Than what wakes you up?"

She swallowed.

"My dear?" he asked, reaching to place his hand on hers.

"Every night, I..." Her voice trembled. "I'm trapped underground, in that... awful room, and the door is locked, and I'm waiting for him to come back and open it, yet I don't ever want him to open it, because I'm afraid... A-and it smells musty and the lights keep going on and off, over and over-"

"Why haven't you told me you've been having nightmares too?" he demanded, cupping her face in his hands. "Christine, I worry about you! So you being perfectly all right is a lie? Just so that you can coddle me when I think I'm in an African forest made of mirrors and wake up screaming?"

"I didn't want to trouble you," she replied weakly as he ran his thumb tenderly across her jaw. "I thought... if you thought I wasn't having moments where I remember, then... I could care for you better. I know what it's like to lose your closest family."

"We're not in this alone. I don't want to be coddled and pitied for the same thing you went through-"

"I wasn't tortured-"

"You were worse than tortured!" he insisted. "At least I was free in that torture chamber, free to live or die at my own hand, but you... I can't imagine. You didn't have any say at all."

"It wasn't so terrible-"

"Don't you dare say that. You nearly killed yourself, don't you say that it wasn't that terrible just to make me feel like I should be the one being comforted. We both need it."

She nodded, though her voice trembled. "But I _want_ to be the strong one. It makes me like... like I'm-"

"In control?"

Her eyes trailed along the floorboards. He lifted her face to his.

"You're too kind for your own good," he said, "but I love you too much to make you bear such a burden."

He then brought her lips to his so passionately that Mamma Valerius blushed where she sat in the armchair near the fire. She averted her gaze down to her knitting and smiled.

Christine admitted her nightmares after that, and found that, as she began to confide them, they grew more and more frail. One day, she hoped, they would fade away entirely.

As she swelled with child, she began to stop insisting on going out, instead choosing to tidy up the nursery in the corner of the bedroom, or read books as she ate strange concoctions that her child insisted upon. She and Raoul were anxious- ready, yet anxious. He stayed home rather than searching for little jobs to work so that he could tend to her. Mamma Valerius couldn't do so, but she was good company.

"I never wanted children," she said one afternoon in the fall.

Christine and her were knitting before the fire. Raoul read a book beside them.

"My husband was distraught when he realized I was barren," Mamma continued, "but I was so relieved. I was afraid of giving birth, to be honest. All these women complained of the immense pain of it- but, of course, they always added that the joy afterward made everything else fade. It was like, they said, that there was only them and their babies. Most said they were glad their husbands weren't allowed in the birthing room so that they could retain some dignity-"

" _Oh_ ," Christine whimpered, clutching her abdomen.

Raoul came to her side. "All right, my dear?"

"It'll pass like the others, I think," she sighed. Then she whimpered again and moaned deeply. There were tears in the corners of her eyes.

"I'm going to get a midwife," he said, pretending to be calm when his mind was imagining a thousand horrible scenarios.

"I think so," Christine told him, clutching her middle. "Oh, be quick!"

The door slammed behind him. He had barely thrown on his jacket.

"Slow breathing," Mamma Valerius offered from her armchair. "Calm breaths, my dear."

Christine's whimpers and moans grew more frequent, and she lied down on the sofa, unmoving in her pains. Time ticked by. Mamma Valerius was too weak to stand on her own, so she could only comfort with words as Christine's contractions grew longer and faster with the passing hours.

"Where is Raoul?" she pleaded after what felt like an eternity.

"I don't know, dear," Mamma replied, knitting briskly to calm herself. "He'll be here... Slow breaths still."

"I think it's coming now. I think it is! I'm going to deliver alone!"

"Panicking won't help-"

"I want Raoul! I want my husband here! I just want him here, not even a midwife!"

She cried out in pain just as the door opened. In cake an elderly woman with spectacles and a mussed gray chignon. Her face was flushed. She was accompanied by a pale Raoul, who rushed to Christine's side, stammering apologies. The midwifepushed the spectacles up her nose as she opened up a black bag.

"Can you move?" she asked Christine without any formalities.

"No," Christine whimpered in reply. "I can't!"

"Then everyone out, into the kitchen until we're done- but you, husband, bring towels. _Why_ she wasn't in bed..."

Raoul assisted Mamma Valerius into the kitchen with him, then began retrieving towels with trembling hahds. The midwife positioned Christine and undressed her. Christine was in too much pain to be embarrassed.

"You've had an easy time," the midwife said as she examined the baby's progress.

Christine whimpered, "It doesn't... _mnh.._. feel like it."

"Well, you have. Baby's coming out almost all on his own."

"His?"

"Well, I don't know _yet_. They come out head first, when they're not stubborn... Now help him out. He's quite persistent. Little breaths."

"I'm so tired-"

"Tired? I just helped a woman birth twins for eight hours! Don't you want to see this child?"

"More than... a-anything-"

"Then push!"

Raoul came in at that very moment with towels. He nearly fainted, but the midwife shooed him out once he had set them down. Christine cried out to help with the pain, and the midwife coaxed her on, then, without warning, faded into silence.

Christine panted. "Something... wrong?"

The midwife's face had drained of all color. She stared at whatever lay between Christine's legs, stared with all the horror of one seeing a ghost. Christine's body propelled her to continue, unbidden, and a cry followed: the precious cry of a newborn.

The midwife did not move. She had become still as marble, and was the same hue.

Raoul pushed open the door from the kitchen upon hearing the wailing infant. His face was alight, but it fell upon seeing the midwife simply staring at his child, which was hidden by Christine's body.

"Is she all right?" he asked.

The midwife packed her bag without a word and rushed out the door. Raoul ran after her as Christine pulled herself up to see what she had borne.

Her blood froze. A ghost lay between her legs. A ghost with no nose, parchment skin, and a skeletal frame. She had given birth to what she had tried to forget.

She stared blankly at the naked infant, still bound by its cord, screaming its lungs out. Her limbs were paralyzed.

He was cold. Her instincts came in a sudden rush. Her child was crying and cold, so, still in shock, she wrapped him up in towels and pulled him to her chest.

"Heaven help me," she whispered.

Her child quieted on her chest. The afterbirth came, further increasing the overpowering odor of blood and sweat.

Raoul entered then, rubbing away the sweat on his forehead.

"Please tell me it's not what I think it is," he whispered. "It can't be."

She shook her head, though she didn't truly understand what he meant, nor how this had occurred. He came over to her, and she shielded the baby.

"Don't look," she pleaded. "I don't want you to see h-him..."

"Then he did rape you?" Raoul said, clenching his fists until they turned white. Tears burned his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"No, no," she pleaded. "I can't explain-"

"You're tired. You're tired, a-and you need to go to bed- you poor, poor thing-"

"I want a bath."

"Yes, anything... I'll put him upstairs for you-"

"No, no," she replied, turning away from him. "Would you bring down the bassinet?"

There was nothing else to do but what she said. Raoul ignored Mamma Valerius questions, and even told her to keep her mouth shut. He knew he wasn't himself. His wife had possibly been abused and never told him. To think that he had not killed Erik himself, in some way! He should have found a way to do it himself! And Christine had _kissed_ that man, _kissed_ him! He didn't deserve the dirt off her shoes.

But the child wasn't to blame. Raoul knew that much. It wasn't the child's fault, its birth.

He took the bassinet down to Christine and had her place the child inside. Then he prepared her a bath by the fire, filling it with bubbles in the hope that it might alleviate her distress.

But imagine, he thought in horror, living with her captor's child! One that resembled him completely! Had he hurt her while they were in the torture chamber? Had he, Raoul, been so close to her, yet helpless as she was? And she had never told him how terribly she had been hurt by that horrible monster of a man...

He helped her into her bath, his eyes soft with pity. Her knees were weak, so he supported her as she sunk down into the foamy water. He went to remove the soiled cushions from the sofa, and threw the whole of it outside.

Christine was pensive for a while. She stared down at the suds surrounding her and waited for them to pop. Then the wail of the infant beside herinterrupted her thoughts.

"What are we going to name him?" Christine whispered. "I was going to name him after my father, but... I-I don't know now..."

"We can decide later," Raoul replied, brushing back her hair with his thumb. "We can talk later about everything... I'm... so sorry."

She nodded weakly, glancing down at her knees above the water. The child continued wailing, and Christine requested to be helped out of the bath. Raoul assisted her entirely, even drying her off and sliding a nightgown over her head. She sat down in an armchair, her arms outstretched.

"Bring him to me," she whispered. "Please."

Raoul obliged, though he couldn't bear to look down at what he carried. To his surprise, Christine brightened as the bundle was placed in her arms.

"Hello, my little one," she said frailly. "I-I love you... He never heard that, but now you have..."

She kissed the baby's forehead and cried as he did at the foreign sensation.

"I love you..."


	2. Chapter 2

Raoul fluffed up the pillows on their bed. Christine was sitting on the edge of it, the white bundle in her arms still, as she stared out the window at the sunset. The room was bathed in a warm glow. The monotonous rhythm of waves crashing outside kept away the silence.

He helped Christine lie back on the bed, taking care to ensure she was entirely comfortable, then slipped a pillow under her arm to support the baby's fragile weight.

"Should I try to feed him?" she asked.

"Whatever you feel is best," he replied, sitting down at the edge of the bed.

She unbuttoned her chemise. He clasped his hands beneath his chin, deep in thought, almost drowning in it. He heard his wife exhaling in exasperation as the baby couldn't figure out how to latch on. Her breaths were shaky.

He stood up with decision, unable to bear not knowing what must be true.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded. "And you went back to him, with the ring, how? After he did that to you-"

"He never touched me," she said with calm assurance as she stared down at the baby.

"Then how does that child exist? And why does it look exactly like _him_?"

"I don't know," she pleaded, now clutching her child. "I don't think it was caused by anything. Erik never touched me in that way- he would have killed himself had he done so."

"But there must be an explanation!" Raoul exclaimed, turning towards the wall and hitting his head against it in complete frustration.

Christine jolted in memory, nearly losing hold of her child. She could feel the blood dripping down like water from her forehead, the fear that when Erik came back, he would kill her or worse. Being trapped forever beneath the earth with a madman...

" _The wedding mass or the requiem!"_

"Are you all right, my dear?" Raoul asked, turning back and finding her pale.

"D-don't do that," she said shakily.

"What?" he turned to the wall and his face fell. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't think-"

"It's fine-"

"It's not _fine!"_ Raoul replied, overcome by what Christine could be hiding from him. "Nothing that he did to you was fine! Nothing that happened to us was _fine!_ And if I remind you of something that happened, tell me, because I love you! Tell me everything that happened because _I love you_ and I want you to feel _safe._ "

The baby fussed, and she rocked him with glassy eyes.

"Please don't be so loud," she said.

"Why shouldn't I be loud?" he cried. "Why shouldn't I be furious? You were _raped!_ I wish that monster was still living so I could tear him to pieces or die trying! And yet you try and protect this man even when he's dead? How can you? You should have thrown his ring into the lake and spit on his grave when you returned to bury him. This man- this monster!- held you captive and made you fear for your life! Just tell me the truth! What did he do to you? Just let me help you!"

"He never touched me!" she sobbed, rocking her child to soothe herself. "N-never, never! Yes, he hurt me sometimes, but he didn't mean to! And he never hurt me in that way, though, never! He wouldn't even have dared to _think_ of it. I don't know how this child came to be-"

"Did he ever... drug you?" Raoul insisted. "Did you ever fall asleep and wake up without remembering how you had gotten where you were?"

"N-no, no, I-I mean..." She swallowed, running her finger over her infant's soft forehead. "He gave me tonics for my sleep, but I would have known had he touched me. I would have known. And he only gave me tonics because he wouldn't allow me to have nightmares. If you had heard him in his fit when I told him I had had one while I was his captive, you would know he was being honest with the tonics. I don't doubt his intentions even now. A-and he made the rule that he wasn't allowed in my room or dressing room."

"Tonics?" Raoul whispered, feeling sick.

"But on our wedding night you know very well I was a virgin!" Christine argued.

"I think you're just defending him!" he accused wildly. "All this talk of him _sometimes_ hurting you, like that is acceptable for a man to do! This child cannot be an anomaly!"

"He is, though! He's ours! Whatever caused Erik to look like he did has now happened to our child."

Raoul gave a cry of frustration. "No it hasn't! It's impossible!"

He went out of the room and sobbed. Christine rocked her child some more, then attempted to feed him again. He stared up at her with misty gray eyes that had a yellow flicker to them.

It was right of Raoul to be upset. He thought his wife had been brutally violated, when she knew she hadn't. She knew it. Erik had hardly even touched her hand when she was with him. He would never harm her like that. He had thought her a pure angel, _worshiped_ her, so why would he desecrate her?

She glanced down at her child. What would she do with him when he grew older? Make him wear a mask?

No. No no _no_. She was going to make the nearby town accept him how he was... somehow. She would. No masks, no cruelty, only love. Everything Erik had never had.

"I want to name him Amadeus," Christine called suddenly.

Raoul opened the door, rubbing his eyes and sniffling.

"Amadeus...?" he questioned, his voice weak. "That's not... Scandinavian. Or French."

"Mozart," she explained softly. "It was Mozart's middle name... I think it's appropriate."

"Because _he_ liked Mozart?"

"Because Mozart was a brilliant composer, perhaps the greatest, and yes, Erik had a fondness for his music... I also like how Amadeus sounds."

"It's Latin," he whispered.

"You know Latin?"

"A bit... It means 'love of God.'"

"Then I like it even more."

She patted the spot beside her in bed, and he assumed it. He took a glance at the child before turning away, unused to the sight.

"I can't look at him," he almost whimpered. "I can't."

"You'll become accustomed to his face. I promise. You would be surprised what one can become accustomed to..."

They stared at the old blue wallpaper for a moment. The corner was beginning to peel.

"Poor little thing," Raoul whispered. "What are we going to do?"

"Love him," she replied simply.

"Who else will?"

"We'll make them," she retorted. "I don't ever want to hear the word 'mask' come out of your mouth, ever."

"But Christine, we can't hide him here. He needs to have a way to protect himself. Everyone will mock him."

"We'll introduce him as a baby, then they'll grow with him, and he'll be accepted."

"It's not that simple-"

"Don't tell me that!" she cried, her features strained. "T-tell me it's simple. Tell me that we're going to take walks on the beach and plant flowers with him and then go into town, where everyone smiles at us, and tell me he's going to have friends, and a wife to take out on Sundays when he's an adult... T-tell me everything is going to be fine."

"I can't..."

"Please."

He sighed, "Everything is going to be fine."

She nodded and leaned her head against his shoulder. Then she exhaled.

"W-would you hold him?" she asked.

He nodded weakly. "Yes... You say he's my son, and... I have your word or nothing."

"But you don't believe me?"

"I do, I just... need time for it to settle in."

"I do, too."

He extended his arms out, and she handed him the bundle with great care. He kept his eyes fixated on hers rather than what he held.

"I love him, you know," Christine said, smiling weakly as she brushed her child's cheek with her fingertip. "I actually do. I'm not making it up; I love him."

"I don't doubt it," he replied. "You are capable of things most people can barely comprehend."

"I can't imagine a mother not loving her child. Carrying him for nine months, birthing him, then... I can't."

Raoul kissed her forehead, then her lips. "People can be horrible... but they can be good, too."

She sighed against him. "At least we have each other in this."

"At least..."

He glanced down at the baby, but found himself too weak again. He believed Christine, though. With time, he might not even notice.

They would need a lot of time.

...

Mamma Valerius was at a loss. She wanted to help, as she felt like a hindrance to the two of them more than anything: just the invalid in the corner taking up space and food. Surely she could do something to aid Christine? Help Raoul not lose trust in his wife, either? All she was doing now was sitting in her chair and knitting, trying not to trouble them as they worked through this together. That was how it was meant to be in marriage, but the two souls were so broken.

She offered to hold the child and was ignored. She had not yet seen him, though she had heard about his face, and his name: Amadeus. It seemed silly to her, but the meaning was good at least. They could have another baby and name it something sensible.

Raoul came out of the bedroom. His eyes were red and irritated as he shuffled into the kitchen, then he turned around to her.

"Do you need anything, madame?" he asked, trembling from wracked nerves. "I could help you into your bedroom-"

"No need, my dear," she replied pleasantly. "I'm perfectly content here... I'm knitting clothes for the baby."

He nodded, his jaw tightening and loosening. Then he went into the kitchen to make Christine some soup. She was famished from the birth and had only had crackers and cheese since.

He exhaled through his mouth, then shut it and whimpered. He had pictured a happy family with Christine more times than he should have, and he had hoped it would become a reality. She should have had a perfect son like she wanted, one that she wouldn't have to coddle and protect from the world. Whatever she said, she didn't understand human nature. She wasn't even capable of hatred, so how could she know? The world would despise their child no matter what they did.

What if... _he_ didn't love the baby? He felt only devotion for it now, devotion to Christine's requests. His heart had frozen upon seeing the baby, a shiver had ran up his spine... What if he couldn't love him? Would Christine despise him, then, for being too weak to see her child as she did?

He brushed his tears away again. Damn tears! This was supposed to be a happy day! Happy! A baby was born, a baby...

He turned towards the doorway. Christine's voice glided through the air like a sunbeam. It was sweet as honey, and in her own language, so he didn't know most of what she was saying, but he could _feel_ it. Her voice was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, singing or not.

The child must have been staring up at her in ecstasy, he thought. Even with the curse he bore, having her as his mother was a blessing.

He cut the vegetables as quietly as he could rather than interrupt the lullabies. He was halfway through the potatoes when his heart sunk with a new idea he hadn't even considered. It was too ludicrous, but it crept into his mind like a disease regardless.

What if Christine had... given herself to Erik? She had admitted she didn't love him, and obviously she hadn't, but could she have? That would explain the love of the child, and the name. Or perhaps the monster had coerced her?

He cursed as he splashed boiling water onto his hand from throwing in chopped potatoes. Mamma Valerius emitted a little 'oh!' of surprise from the other room.

"Did you hurt yourself, dear?" she asked Raoul.

"No," he called back.

He continued in his task. Christine loved _him_ , not that monster. Had she loved the other, she would have not resisted marrying him. It was more likely that she had been coerced, and yet Raoul would have preferred her betrayal to that. He would have preferred for her to have gone to bed with that monster of her own free will than have been dragged, screaming and-

He cursed again. He bent over the countertop, exhaled, and let out a quiet stream of every single one he knew. The mere thought of what could have happened to Christine made him wish he could scream aloud with all the pent-up fury aching inside him.

As he calmed, he put himself into Christine's mind. What would she have done that could have led to the child? Would she have somehow caused it? The thought was insane, but... Had she pitied the monster enough to give him the deepest expression of love that she could? That seemed almost logical. She could have wanted to give him love, and thought that the best way to.

How _could_ she, though? What was she hiding, if anything?

He finished the soup and ladled it into a bowl for her. She had ceased singing. He took it into the bedroom, eyes averted. She was feeding the baby again, this time successfully. Raoul's head swam. His stomach churned and he felt faint at the sight.

"Thank you, my love," she said to him as he handed her the bowl, smiling weakly. "Come sit with me."

"I'm going on a walk," he informed her.

"Oh, that's nice... But what if Mamma or I need you? I'm still weak-"

"I'll be brisk," he insisted, leaving without another word.

Christine stared down at her bowl of soup, then back at the door. Was he upset with her? No, no, he wouldn't be. He was just upset by all of it, upset and confused.

Once the baby was warm and full, she set him in his cradle, and he slept peacefully while she ate. She found herself watching him, watching his little chest rise and fall, his frail hands open and shut. He was a perfectly normal baby in all respects save appearance. Perfectly normal save his sickly skin and the hole in his face...

Maybe a false nose would be a good idea in public. No masks, but perhaps a false nose. Raoul was right that Amadeus needed some form of protection from people, and the addition of a nose would do wonders. Besides, it wasn't restraining. At home, he would wear nothing but his God-given face. She was determined for that.

She found herself quite exhausted and fell asleep minutes after sliding her empty bowl onto the nightstand. Raoul slipped in just after she had done so. She was sprawled out in exhaustion, so he slid her to her side of the bed, tucked her in, then turned to join her.

But he glanced at the cradle. The baby was staring up at him with glowing eyes, and Raoul gave a cry of horror. Christine stirred groggily.

"What's wrong?" she yawned.

"His eyes _glow,_ Christine!" he exclaimed. "Like a cat! Glowing!"

"Erik's eyes glowed..." She sighed as the baby began to fuss, and she pulled him out of the cradle. "It won't frighten you after tonight."

He shook his head at it all. How could she be so calm? What had his life become?

As Christine's eyelids shut, the baby still enveloped in her arms, Raoul dressed for bed, shaking. Regardless of what Christine had done, though, if anything, he loved her more than life itself. Perhaps nothing could make him stop loving her. She always had the best intentions, was strong and kind, and so beautiful that it took his breath away.

He replaced the child in its cradle and curled up next to his wife in bed, wishing he would wake up in the morning and it would all have been a bad dream.


	3. Chapter 3

The morning was too quiet for a newborn's first. The baby hardly ever cried, perhaps because Christine refused to set him down, even for breakfast.

"Do you want to take a walk?" Raoul offered as she pushed her uneaten porridge away. "We have the baby carriage."

"I'm still weak," she replied. "And it's too cold outside for him, even if we wrapped him up."

"Then we'll stay here. I need to go out and buy a few things later, though."

She nodded. "We'll be fine."

"Make sure you rest," he advised, bending down to kiss her forehead. She shuddered. "S-sorry, I didn't think- you haven't reacted like that before-"

"I was just cold," she lied. "I'm going to sit by the fire with him."

"Are you sure you don't want to eat anything?"

"I'm not hungry."

He nodded, reaching for her arm so he could help her over to the sofa. Mamma Valerius smiled at her.

"How is the baby?" she asked.

"He's wonderful," Christine replied, managing a frail smile. "And he's hardly cried today, if you can believe it."

"He has a very attentive mother."

Christine smiled down at herself. Mamma glanced over at the bundle lying so still in his mother's arms.

"Could I hold him?" she asked.

"I wouldn't advise it," Raoul interjected.

"At least let me see him. I want to know what he looks like. You both behave as if I am to be protected, like a child, when I have seen much more of the world... But he is your child, of course. "Whatever you think is best."

"I would love for you to," Christine said, pulling the blanket further up around the baby's face. "Could you hand him to her, darling?"

"I think we should wait," he insisted.

Christine's eyes were wide and glossy. He caved and brought the baby over to Mamma Valerius. She gasped in surprise, and Christine's heart plummeted.

"Well, I," the woman whispered, looking up from the bundle, "didn't expect... I didn't... But I'm sure we'll become accustomed to his face. I have no doubt you both will raise him to have a heart of gold as well."

Christine was already sobbing. Raoul went over to her, cradling her against his chest.

"Oh, forgive me, dear," Mamma Valerius pleaded. "I didn't mean any harm-"

"N-no, no," Christine replied. "You didn't... I just... I don't want h-him... to ever see someone... react like that. It wasn't your f-fault, we didn't prepare you-"

"Shh, dear, it was my fault. I'm sorry about my callousness-"

"I didn't mean that," Christine sobbed. "You're not... c-callous."

"Dear, I took no offense-"

"Madame," Raoul interjected, "leave it at that, please. She's not well."

Mamma's heart sunk low in her chest. "Of course not..."

She glanced down at the child again, but her eyes refused the sight. How could a baby be hideous? Something so tiny and fragile? It was impossible! And how could she be so weak?

Christine asked for her child once she had calmed, and Raoul returned him to her. She rocked him beside the fire, silent and pensive with reflection.

Her heart was a fortress. It was not one to shut people out, but to allow them the shelter of her soul. She possessed strength and wisdom that her husband could barely comprehend. Compared to her, he was a boy. He wanted to have the capacity she had naturally, to love those the world has shunned without a second thought, to have an innate sense of right and wrong. When she made mistakes, he always found himself surprised, as Erik had before him, that an angel could make the mistakes of a mortal.

She did her best to keep her fears hidden from both her husband and the woman who had become her mother. Why should they have to worry over her? They had done enough. Consider poor Raoul, who had endured torture just to be here, with her, and now with their ghost of a child. She couldn't bear the thought of causing him more pain, nor Mamma, who was still grappling with the fact that Christine's lasting pain from her captivity was partially her doing.

They only wanted to help her, though. They wanted to support the supporter, to give her some peace at last. All of them just wanted peace.

Raoul kept himself from inquiring as to the child's creation for the morning, though the matter weighed heavily on his heart. The concoctions of his mind regarding what may have happened filled him with horror. That was what made him speak to Mamma Valerius that afternoon about it as Christine slept beside her child, who lay on a little sheepskin rug on the bed, wrapped snugly in white blankets. He was the image of an angel if it were not for the death's-head peeking out.

"What should I do?" Raoul asked Mamma Valerius as she knitted before the fire.

"About what?"

"Where he came from. Surely it's not a coincidence that he looks like that?"

She averted her eyes, and her veined hands hesitated on the knitting needles. "If Christine is hiding something, I assume she has good reason."

"But hiding something from me? Do you think she truly would? I'm her husband."

"She wants to protect you. She's been through more than she lets on. You know this."

"I do... but... do you think?" He exhaled, "I've had too much time to think, far too much, but... do you think she might have actually... loved him?"

She hesitated before replying, "In a way. One I cannot comprehend.."

"I just want to know whose child that is. That's all."

"Yours and hers, dear. You will treat him as such, won't you?"

"Of course, I already promised her, but... I can't bear the thought of what could have happened to create that child."

"I can't, either," she whispered frailly. "And it's my fault, isn't it? None of it would have happened without me..."

"What do you mean, madame? It's my fault for letting her sing for him instead of just dragging her away for her own good."

"But I planted the seed."

Raoul blinked. "What do you mean by that?"

"I told her, the first time he spoke to her, that he must be her angel. She became so obsessed with the idea, and I let her believe it, I let her... I-I can't even believe my own stupidity. And then I believed her all while she lied to me that she was visiting an angel, even when she came back pale and frightened, oh... I'm such a mad old woman!"

"No, no, you couldn't have known."

"You didn't either, that he would abduct her like that."

"It's his fault." Raoul declared as if he had a bitter taste in his mouth. "All of it. Yet his grave doesn't appease my mind... his grave..." His eyes went wide. "Y-you don't think he... hurt her then? Is that why he called her back? What if she bargained for me like that! I hadn't even considered!"

Christine stirred. Raoul buried his head in his hands.

"Raoul?" she whispered as she drifted out of the bedroom. "What are you and Mamma talking about?"

"Nothing," he replied hastily.

" _Raoul_."

"Just... knitting. I-I asked her about it."

"I'm sure... You two were talking about the baby, weren't you? You don't believe me."

"Did you bargain for me?" Raoul pleaded, his voice weak. "Tell me the truth, no matter how much it might hurt me, I must know. Why was I released? A simple kiss can't turn a man so far from what he is fixated upon, certainly not a man like _that_."

"I have already explained this to you countless times. I can't say I wouldn't have bargained for your life in such a way, had he offered it. I didn't care about my life then, only yours, a-and the Persian's... I would have taken anything from him for you, a-anything, and in the end, I did. Why would he have asked such a thing from me, when he could have had it had he simply married me...? And yes, he simply changed. He wept like a child because he had never known an ounce of affection, and experiencing it changed his mind. Why shouldn't it have? After receiving a kiss from the only person who had ever loved him in any way, and whom he loved enough to bow down to in worship? Yes, he changed his mind. Perhaps it was then that he realized my lips were not painted porcelain, but flesh and blood. He realized I had a heart inside my chest, and that he had one as well. So he let me go. He never touched me in any untoward way, before or after that, never made any bargain for me, nothing but let me go free, because he loved me. All he wanted was my promise to bury him once he was dead. I realized I was condemning a man to die, and it almost made me stay, but I... I couldn't stay.

"When I returned to him, and found him still and cold, you must know that I cried with all the pain of one who has lost a dear friend. The lake would not hold all the tears I wept for that poor, wretched man. Before he had been my greatest fear, he had been my confidant, and my _friend_. He still had been, as my captor, my friend, because I was all he had, and sometimes... sometimes it felt like he was all _I_ had. He understood me in ways no one else did. He knew my passion for music and kindled my flame, until he decided to smother it for himself, for the one thing he had always been denied. I could give him everything he wanted, plain and simple companionship, not even _love_. He knew I couldn't do that. He had given up all hope for what should be a natural human right. And that was why he let me go, because I _did_ give him the love he had always craved, and he was content to die after receiving it, as it was more than he had ever dared hope for. He had never wanted anything more than a kiss. I can't imagine what a life that would be to lead..."

She sighed. "I don't know what caused our child to be born as he was. It was likely whatever had caused Erik's pain, or perhaps some supernatural happenstance, of which I am well associated with. But now, regardless, I have a chance to fix what happened to him. It's like he's been given a second chance at life, and by God, I'm going to give him all the love that I am capable, and even incapable, of delivering."

"We," Raoul added. "We are."

"You believe me, then?"

"I love you, Christine. I certainly can't think you are lying."

"Oh, my darling."

Mamma Valerius glanced out the window as they kissed each other and cried. A seabird drifted across the glass sky. The hum of waves continued in the distance, and she exhaled, feeling her heart swell in her chest as it mended from pain.

The ordinary cry of a newborn shattered the tranquility. Christine reached over for her child, but Raoul took her wrists and placed her hands in her lap.

"I want to hold my son," he said. "I-if that's all right with you?"

Her throat grew taut as she nodded, her blue eyes still wet with tears. He tried to focus on the blanket wrapped around the baby rather than its skull-like face. He wasn't strong enough, not yet.

Christine slid close to him, placing her finger in the baby's reach. He grabbed on, his grip pulsating as he settled upon his mother's eyes, then his father's, who struggled to return his gaze. He released his mother, who leaned down to kiss him.

He fussed, because he didn't understand. Not yet.

...

"I know it's cold," Christine crooned as she changed her fussing baby, "but this is dirty now... There, all better, yes?"

He continued whining. She glanced out at the bright stars seeping through the curtains.

Raoul turned over in bed, murmuring his wife's name. Then he sat bolt upright.

"Did he cry?" he asked. "I didn't hear, I'm sorry-"

"It's all right," she replied, yawning. "I just need to feed him now."

She went to sit beside her husband, who held up the blankets for her to slide under. She shivered until he wrapped his arm about her for warmth.

"Does it hurt at all?" he asked as she undid her nightgown. "Feeding him?"

"Not really," she replied, rocking her baby up and down in her arm to soothe him. "Sometimes I ache or feel sore after, but during, I feel... warm inside. I feel connectrd to him."

She sighed in tired frustration as the baby refused to latch on.

"How difficult is it?" she murmured. "He takes forever, every time... There he goes. That was actually pretty quick... I shouldn't blame him, though, his lips are a bit... strange..."

They were silent for a moment. In the distance, there was a deep echo from some unknown creature.

"Is there," Raoul asked, smiling hesitantly, "a Swedish legend about any sea-dwelling creatures that make a sound like that?"

"Perhaps a mermaid..." she replied.

"It wasn't pretty enough for a mermaid. What about the... What's it called? Lokkin?"

"Nøkken, but no. That's only in freshwater."

"Maybe he moved."

She laughed quietly. "Maybe... We'll have to go throw some needles in the ocean, then."

"Needles?"

"It wards him off. I did it all the time as a girl, before I swam in the summer. Made me feel safe."

"But there's no such thing, of course."

"Of course. No such thing."

"Nor should we waste good needles."

She giggled, "No... I-I remember one summer, where I joined a group of children who stole all their mothers' and grandmothers' needles for that very purpose. They found out, and all the others got punished, but my father just spoke to me. I cried because he was disappointed, but all the other children came out of their houses the next day waddling. My father never gave me the paddle once, though, or the like."

"My governess rapped my knuckles, but that was all... I expect you don't think we should do that with Amadeus?"

"I don't think it's a decision we should make now, but I should hope we never have to."

"I don't think we will... But I will say that some children just need it. Nothing else works. I was awful to my governess, so she had to put me in line, and that was the only way to do it. My brother simply had to look at me with the slightest bit of disappointment in his eyes and I burst into tears."

"That was how it was with me. My papa was my everything." The light in her eyes extinguished. "I wish he could have seen his grandchild..."

Raoul hesitated for a moment, then offered, "Maybe he _can_ see us."

She glanced up. "Maybe..."

She looked down at her baby as he pulled away from her, now full and warm. She set him on the sheepskin at the center of the bed, taking care to ensure he was comfortable in between them.

"I hope the winter isn't too bitter," she whispered as she pulled the covers up to her chin.

"Don't worry about that. We'll wrap him up warm."

"Warm and snug..."


	4. Chapter 4

**Baby Amadeus viewpoint starts us out. I thought it would be fun. Who doesn't want to see through a little baby's eyes?**

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

There were shapes. Gray shapes. There were noises all around, almost always, save in the dark. That was when he made the noises, and more noises replied. His favorite shape would pick him up then. It was warm. It had two blue round things in it. That was the first color he had truly seen, blue. He liked the blue very much, but he liked more what came after seeing them. The shape was full of warm stuff that would fill him and make the world grow fuzzy, then dark. Then it would lighten again, and the shape would give him more of the warm stuff when he asked. The shape would also warm him on the outside with the white part of it.

Yes, he liked the blue-and-white shape very much. It was much better than the other shape, which had no warm stuff for him, but the same colors. It was upsetting when he confused the shapes. One was far better than the other. He wished the useless one would go away. The other could warm him on the inside and the outside. He had no need for another.

The good shape took him from the soft white place he was on. He looked at its blue round things. It was moving him somewhere.

Cold brushed against him. He whined at it so it would go away. There were noises out here unlike those inside. There was one like "csh" and another like "shh." He found he liked these noises, and ceased whining to hear them better.

"Look," came the soft sound the blue-and-white shape seemed to make, "it's the ocean. Can you see it, my love?"

The blue-and-white shape was not warming him. He whined for it to, and was rewarded with being more firmly secured against it. The smell of the shape was sweet, and he liked that very much as well.

The shape began to make the long, soft sounds he liked, and he found his gaze growing fuzzy. He was quite warm now. The gray shapes turned to black.

...

Christine stared out at the water, her child against her. The clouds were a great gray mass above their heads, and the ocean had turned inky. The sun's rays were pure white.

The waters were calm despite their gloomy appearance. The tide was low, and a few children were scouring the rocks for shellfish, bundled up in wool and boots. They had a bucket between them, and objects kept plunking into it. The chattering of voices rose up from the little group.

The door opened behind her, and Raoul came out, hands in his pockets.

"The blue sky didn't stay very long," he said.

"No," she replied. "But this is pretty, too."

"Colder, though."

"The sun will be back. It always comes back."

"Yes, it does."

They savored the view for a moment. Christine adjusted how she was holding her child, as her arm had grown tired.

"I heard you," she said to break the silence.

"Heard me?" Raoul asked.

"At night... Do you want to talk about it? You say that makes you feel better."

"It was just Philippe again," he replied, shrugging to put her more at ease. "The one where I'm on the shore of the lake, watching... You can't comfort me in that, my dear, and then," his features tensed, "I wake up to the same face in between us..."

"He's not the same, though," she implored him. "Amadeus is going to be so much different."

"But I don't think he _is_ , Christine."

She blinked, "What?"

"I think... I think Amadeus _is_ him. I know you don't believe in supernatural things anymore, but... E-Erik wasn't all human. What if he did something, like a spell or-?"

"He was as human as you or I," she said sharply, bewildered by this notion. "He had no magical abilities save his extraordinary mind."

"You weren't in the torture chamber. That creation was a whole other world. It had a _sun_ , Christine, and the rays of it burned my eyes just like the real thing. The animal noises, how could he have done those? From a fly to a lion? The fact that he could do that... it wasn't human."

"You didn't spend fifteen days locked up with him. Everything he did was science, though mangled-up at times, it was science. Products of his mind. He explained to me how everything worked down there, though I didn't understand most of it. He showed me how lightbulbs worked, how he had installed electricity, even to how he heated my bath water. Then he even told me about things science had yet to grasp that he had. There was no magic, no supernatural essence to him. He was human. How could he have let me go if he wasn't human, and had a human heart?"

"Because of the baby."

"Oh, of course!" she exclaimed, her eyes blazing. "Erik impregnated me with magic! Of course!"

"Christine-"

"We might as well just say I jumped into bed with him, that's just as realistic!"

She pressed the baby more firmly against her chest as she spun around in a huff, heading inside. The wind carried her sobs back towards Raoul as the door slammed.

" _Damn_ ," he whispered, his heart plummeting with regret.

He glanced at the children roaming the rocks. Why couldn't Christine and him have had one like those? Why did they have to relive their memories every time they held their child? Why did he have to wake up at night to the same glowing eyes that he had shot at through his window, the same that had been Philippe's last sight?

He turned towards the front door, running through how to apologize in his head. His heart was so distressed, though, by his aloud thoughts from earlier, and how foolish they had been, that he went to the shore. The children were heading back home, and he was left quite alone.

The sea had always calmed him. The scent, the sound, the power of it. The way a boat could glide along its crystal surface like a bird. The creatures living in its depths, from fish the size of his fingernail, to great whales that dwarfed even the largest ships. He had been brought up on white sails and white foam. His fondest memories, save those of Christine, were of flying over blue waters.

He plucked a mussel shell from the edge of the dark ocean, admiring the shining surface within. Then his gaze was drawn to the coarse sand below him, to a white sphere. He removed it from the earth, rubbing the surface, and found it to be a small pearl. There were too many strange occurrences in his life for him to admire the coincidence: that he required an apology and now had a gift with it, albeit a small one.

He turned back towards the house. The moment he had opened the door, he was met by the cold gaze of Mamma Valerius.

"I hope you have an apology ready," she said. "She's been crying for a good ten minutes now over whatever you said."

Raoul put his hand to his forehead. "I'm a fool is all."

Her gaze softened. "We all are at times, my dear."

He nodded, his throat growing taut. The pearl was cool in his palm as he knocked on their bedroom door before entering.

"Christine?" he whispered, pushing open the door.

Amadeus was on his sheepskin in the center of the bed, asleep with his hands at his sides in fists. Christine was beside him, surrounded by a few used handkerchiefs. She kept her eyes down.

"I'm sorry," he told her, thinking he sounded too feeble.

She looked up, her blue eyes red from crying. He extended his hand to her, and she took the pearl, her eyes welling up.

"I'm s-sorry, too," she replied. "I overreacted, you were just thinking, because it makes no sense, n-none of it makes a-any sense, and I-"

"No, no, I should have known I was being stupid-"

"You weren't stupid, not at all. We should be able to talk about our thoughts, a-and now I've made you feel stupid for sharing them-"

"No, you didn't make me feel stupid," he said, sitting beside her on the bed. She rested her head on his chest and he placed his hand in her hair, beginning to weave through the gold strands to calm her. "No, no, not at all, not at all, you... told me what you thought, and you were right... You're just tired, I'm tired, we can't expect to be perfect."

She nodded, her eyes shut. They remained like that for a time as her tears slowed. Raoul was thankful that her eyes were closed, as a few slipped from his eyes as well. He wanted to be strong for her, strong and stoic, her rock, as she had always been that. She still was, but it was good that she could cry on him now without it being mutual.

"Where did you find... the pearl?" she whispered after their warm silence.

"In the sand, by chance."

"You didn't... h-have to bring me something in apology."

"But I wanted to. I love you."

"I love you, too..."

She pulled his lips down to hers without a second thought, and his grip around her tightened as the kiss deepened. He reached for the buttons on her dress, and she inhaled sharply.

"I'm sore still," she told him. "I'm sorry-"

"It's fine," he replied, separating from her. "I forgot."

"I mean, I could-"

"It's fine, Christine, I wasn't thinking... But... could we continue at least kissing, though?"

She smiled weakly, "I would like that very much."

...

"Darling, I don't feel like he's getting much bigger," Christine told Raoul nervously one morning as the baby slept. "It's been almost three weeks now, but he's the same size. Shouldn't he be growing, at least a little?"

"How do you know for certain that he's the same size?" Raoul asked.

"I've held him in my arms enough to know."

"Maybe he won't gain weight the same as other babies, and it's only been three weeks, as you say."

"I know," she sighed. "Maybe I'm anxious over nothing..."

"How have you been feeling lately?" Raoul asked, beginning to rub her shoulders.

She leaned against him. "Just tired... And you?"

"A little tired too, I suppose. I wish you would wake me up more in the night, though. I know you let me sleep instead of asking for my help."

"What's the point of waking you? It's not like you can help me feed him. That's all he wants at night."

"But I don't want you to do this alone."

She shrugged. "Most women do."

"You know that's not true. My mother had a nursemaid for us, and others have friends, mothers, someone. I'm all you have to help. Besides, we decided I wouldn't find work until the spring. I have nothing better to do."

"You shouldn't have to, though. You should be allowed to work, like a normal husband. You shouldn't be... doing laundry, and holding him when I'm tired, and-"

"It's fine, Christine. I want to help. I do. Once you're settled, I'll step away from it, all right? I promise."

"If you promise... But I'm still not waking you up for no reason. Besides, it makes you able to reason with me when I'm exhausted."

"At least nudge me when he wakes."

"All right, I'll nudge you. That's all."

"Fine by me."

She glanced out the window. The sky was filled with gray clouds, and the ocean was black and wild.

"Do you want to take a walk?" she asked. "I'll bundle up Amadeus real warm."

"That sounds lovely. It's not as cold today as it has been."

She nodded. "I'll get him ready when he wakes... Give me a kiss, won't you?"

"You don't have to ask me twice," he replied, cupping her head in his hands as he found her lips.

She wrapped her arms about him, pulling him close enough to feel his lungs expanding rapidly against her chest. The base of her stomach flooded with warmth, and she sighed as she pressed her ear to his pulse. He kissed the top of her head.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, too," she said straight to his heart.

"Don't think you're ever alone, all right? You have two people who care for you."

"Three, in a way."

He glanced down at the child, and he stared for a moment, as the sight had worn into his eyes. He smiled.

"Three," he repeated, then he kissed the top of her head again, trailing down to her neck. "Three extremely fortunate people..."

"Mm, I'm fortunate, too. More than I can say- Raoul!" she giggled. "Goodness me, give me warning! Mamma could hear."

"It's not like we can do anything. You wince whenever you sit down."

"Oh, just a bit of soreness. It'll heal soon and we can get back to it."

She tilted her lips to meet his again, wrapping her arms about his neck.

"Although maybe," Raoul added, "we should avoid having another baby for a while."

"What's wrong with more babies?" she replied, beaming as she twirled one of his blonde curls around her finger.

"I-I mean..." he shrugged, swallowing, "how many do you want?"

"However many God wants to give us."

"I hope he thinks we should only have two, then."

"Two? I was thinking four or five at least."

"We don't have a big enough house for that many children, nor enough to support them."

"I suppose not..." she said, her face falling.

"But if that's what you want," he offered, "I'll see what I can make a living off of here, a real one, and maybe we can either add a room, or buy a different house. How is that?"

"We'll see what life still holds for us. At least it can't do much worse than it has already."

"No much, no..."

"Come kiss me again."

Just as he wrapped his arms about her, the baby emitted a shrill whine from where he lay on the bed. She rushed to pick him up.

"Do you want to go on a walk?" she chimed as she rocked him. "By the ocean? You haven't seen how beautiful the ocean is."

He continued fussing.

"I think you just want food, then," she said. "You just want to eat and sleep, don't you, my love?"

He stared up at her for a moment, as if digesting her words, before emitting another whine of impatience. She exhaled as she unbuttoned her bodice.

"When do you think he'll love me for more than just milk?" she asked Raoul.

"I'm sure he loves you for more already," he replied. "After all, you hold him, sing to him, bathe him, change him... Why wouldn't he love you for all that, too?"

She smiled, then glanced down, exhaling in irritation at the baby on her bosom.

"He always has so much trouble staying on," she said. "My goodness, you would think he'd be good at it by now. He's been doing it for weeks."

"Maybe it's his lips that are causing him trouble."

"Maybe," she whispered. "I try not to think about his lips... I can look at his eyes, even at his nonexistent nose, but I can't see his lips without reliving old memories."

"It's all right. I can't look at his eyes."

"It's not all right," she retorted. "I should be better than that."

"You're already doing a wonderful job, considering-"

"A mother shouldn't fear her child," she told him, her lower lip quivering. "I should be able to look at him, a-and feel only love, and sometimes I... _don't_."

"You told me before, we'll become accustomed to seeing him. Years from now, all those horrible memories will have faded."

"No. No, they never will fade. I know they won't. That's not how it works."

"Then..." he lifted his hands vaguely, "then I don't know what to say. But you're not doing anything wrong, far from it. You love him with all your heart, and you show it, even if your mind is remembering... I can help you then, though. Just tell me, and we can talk."

"Talking doesn't help me..."

"What does, then? What would you like me to do?"

She smiled frailly, "What you're doing. All I need is what you're giving me now."

"Christine, you think what you need is the bare minimum. I'm asking what you would like me to do to help you more."

"And I answered."

"You're trying to do too much on your own-"

"You can't help me with the thoughts in my head."

"You know that's not true. You help me with mine."

"But you can tell me everything, and I... I can't."

He blinked in confusion, "What do you mean?"

"There are things that I want to keep to myself."

"And tear you apart on the inside? Why do you need to keep anything from me?"

"Because you wouldn't understand," she sighed. "And I've tried to make you, but either I must be terrible at explaining, or you simply cannot comprehend... I cannot even comprehend them. How could I have been friends with the man who almost took everything from me? How can I sometimes wish he wasn't dead? Why did I keep some of his compositions, when the very same music often filled me with terror? I don't even understand my own actions, so I suppose you're just doomed never to understand them, either."

"You pitied him. That was all."

"But it _wasn't_. I've told you that. We were friends. We truly were friends. And yet how could I be friends with him? I knew he was a murderer, he was dangerous, that he was keeping me captive, for heaven's sake, and yet... It wasn't all pity. I know it wasn't."

"This is just upsetting you," he told her, reaching to run his hand through her hair. "You're right, there's no explanation to what happened, and searching for one is going to drive us mad."

She nodded, "I think I'm a little mad, though, regardless..."

"Everyone's a little mad, Christine."

"Yes, a little..."

She glanced down at her child, who was still suckling, content and oblivious.

"Do you still want to go on a walk?" Raoul asked quietly.

"Yes, I do. He should be almost finished."

And, on cue, the baby detached itself and glanced up at his mother, his eyelids heavy from the bliss of milk.


	5. Chapter 5

Christine was holding a rattle above the baby's head. He followed the image with his eyes and the sound with his ears, staring up at his mother in awe.

Raoul was putting holly on the mantle for Christmas. The tree was already set up in the corner, though in need of tinsel and candles.

Christine let out a gasp. He dropped the holly and came over to her.

"What? What?" he asked.

"He smiled!" she replied brightly. "He did!"

"Are you sure? A real smile?"

"Yes! Come see! I'll make him do it again."

She beamed at the baby, and he responded with a toothless grin, like a skull. A shudder ran up Raoul's spine at the sight. He found it even less appealing than the usual face of his child, and he visibly paled.

"Isn't he adorable?" Christine asked, then she found her husband's face and hers fell. "Raoul?

Without waiting for his reply, she took Amadeus into their bedroom. The door shut without another word.

"Don't worry too much about it, dear," Mamma Valerius advised from where she sat in the corner, putting popcorn on a string. "You have a very forgiving wife."

He ignored her and began hammering a nail into the wall. He hit his knuckle instead.

"Damn it," he muttered.

"You found a very nice tree," Mamma offered.

"Maman, I don't need to be praised and coddled like a child, so please don't-"

There came a knock at the door. He stiffened in confusion, then set aside the holly he had been holding. Was it a neighbor? But they hardly knew their neighbors, and the nearest town was half an hour away.

He opened the door and found, to his utter surprise, a man in a dark coat and astrakhan hat on the front step, shuffling his boots in the snow. His bright jade eyes were unmistakable.

"I hope I'm not too early," the Persian said.

"You're here," Raoul whispered, his hand falling from the door. "I didn't think you would. I had almost... forgotten."

The bedroom door opened behind them, and out came Christine, devoid of her child and beaming.

"Monsieur!" she said brightly. "I'm so glad you came! I didn't know if you would, this being for Christmas and all."

"I would take any invitation from you, madame," he replied. "We hardly had time to speak before."

"Yes, we did not... I'll go make tea-"

A cry interrupted her, and she turned to answer it. Raoul found his eyes stinging with tears in the presence of the Persian.

"Thank you, monsieur," he said softly. "For everything, with Christine and... looking after her. I don't think I ever said that. Not properly."

"It's quite all right," the Persian replied. "But I hardly did anything, after all. It was your wife who saved all four of us."

"It was... but you brought me to her, so I must thank you... How are you, though?"

"Quite well," the Persian glanced around. "Might I come in?"

"Oh, yes, of course," Raoul said, flustered and embarrassed. "Come sit down. Christine will have him calmed down in a moment."

The Persian replied removed his boots before going over to sit by the fire. Mamma Valerius stared at him outright, shocked to see such a man invited in like a friend. She bit her tongue, though. After all, it wasn't her house, but still, a _Persian_ man?

"Congratulations," the Persian said to Raoul, gesturing to where the baby's cries were issuing from.

"Oh, yes... thank you," Raoul replied, fidgeting with his pocket watch.

"Is something wrong?"

Raoul glanced over to the bedroom. The door was shut tight. He swallowed.

"I have a private matter to discuss with you," he said.

The Persian's black eyebrows rose. "What about?"

"I hardly know how to say it."

The child continued wailing. Raoul sighed, his features pained.

"The baby, he's..." Raoul hesitated for a moment, casting another glance at the door. "We don't know why, but he looks... just like _him_."

The room fell silent save the whistling wind outside.

"Erik?" The Persian said, his voice an airy breath. "Like Erik?"

"In every way."

The Persian shook his head. "I've seen many strange things, but such an occurrence is impossible."

"Unless...?"

"No. No, Erik could have nothing to do with this, I am certain... He came to my apartment after he had freed you and Christine, came sobbing and rambling, all over a kiss on the forehead. If he was weeping so profusely at such a small thing- that is, to us- then it is impossible to think he might have done anything more to her. He worshiped her and, moreover, he wanted everything proper. I know Erik-" He caught himself. "Knew Erik... Might I see the child, though?"

"Christine might not let you." Raoul glanced back at the door. His voice lowered to a whisper. "Don't tell her I said anything. Please, she's been upset with me for the past week for random things and I don't want to add any more."

"Not a word, of course. I assume her first time as a mother is taking its toll."

"Well, I help her. I'm staying home until the spring."

Christine called for him, and he went to answer her immediately. The Persian glanced over at Mamma Valerius, who kept her eyes so intent upon her work that one might have thought her performing a surgery rather than stringing popcorn.

"Good afternoon, madame," he said politely. "You are Madame Daaé's mother?"

"I am," she said curtly, then added, "in a way."

"I'm pleased to meet you."

"Yes," she replied, not looking up, "as am I."

Thus ended the conversation. He made his best attempt to allow Christine and Raoul privacy in whatever they were discussing, but it is impossible to shut one's ears off.

"What did you tell him?" Christine asked in the next room. "About Amadeus, what?"

"Nothing, really. He wants to see him is all. He won't react like Mamma, you know that-"

"Or you?"

He shut his eyes in pain. "We've spoken about this countless times. He looks just like _him_."

"But he's your son!"

"And I love him. But I didn't carry him in the womb or give birth to him, so it isn't the same."

Amadeus started to fuss. Christine rocked him in her arms.

"I just need time," Raoul pleaded. "I need your patience, which is understandably low, but surely you can manage some? I do hold him now, and I talk to him, just like you. I love him... But I can't look at him the way you do yet. Even you still have difficulty. Every time we look at him, we're back there."

She nodded, her eyes unfocused. "Can't you at least pretend you aren't?"

"I don't want to pretend. I want it to be real... like it is for you."

"Maybe it's not always real for me, either. But if I pretend, it becomes real."

It took him a moment to realize she was crying. Her eyes had developed the look of tears constantly, partly due to difficulty sleeping, and anxiety over the baby. He reached out for her, hoping she might take his comfort, and she clung to him immediately.

"My love, have you been sleeping?" he asked, stroking her blonde curls. "Or is something else troubling you? You seemed so happy earlier."

She glanced towards the door. Tears streamed down her face.

"I can't go out to him," she said. "I can't."

"Why not? He is the reason we are here."

She bit down hard on her lip. "If he sees him... he'll think..."

"Think what?"

"What you did."

"No, no, he won't-"

"And what if he thinks worse?" she pleaded, clinging to him. "Erik must have told him that I loved him, he must have, and he'll think I-"

"He won't, I promise."

"How do you know?"

Raoul fidgeted. "W-well, I... we talked."

"You... a-asked him if I hadn't been faithful?" she whispered brokenly.

"No, of course not."

"After all this time, your trust in me about it... was a lie?"

"Christine," he told her anxiously, "I only told him about Amadeus, only that much, and he explained-"

"What I had already said? Tell me it was what I had already said."

"Word for word, I swear. He was in disbelief and thought there was no possibility of the child being Erik's- though I didn't mention that."

She glanced down at Amadeus. "You doubted me, though. You wanted his answer after mine."

"Christine, I love you!" he insisted. "I didn't even ask him a question, exactly. He just explained. I didn't doubt you, I never did, I swear."

She had gone silent, refusing his gaze.

"How long are you going to be upset with me?" he asked.

A tear trailed down her cheek, and she brushed it away. "I'm not upset... I need to go let him see Amadeus now."

"Are you sure you're well enough?"

"I'm fine."

She went out to the living room. The Persian was waiting patiently, but distressed from what he had heard. He found no smile on Christine's features this time, though she made a fine attempt.

"You already know about our son," she said to him.

"I do," he replied, "and I am sorry for your misfortune."

"Our son is not a misfortune."

"I meant that he interrupts your healing," he explained gently. "I have no doubt you love him very much."

Her lower lip quivered. "Yes, we do."

Raoul's heart leapt at the use of "we."

"May I?" the Persian asked, extending his arms.

Christine glanced down at her child in hesitation. Then, before she could think too heavily, he was in the Persian's arms. There was no cry of fright, no shudder. In truth, he had never been accustomed to Erik's face, but as the face of a child, he found it much more bearable.

"I cannot believe my own eyes," the Persian said in a hushed voice. "I would only think something supernatural could have done this."

"That's what I thought," Raoul added.

"I don't believe in that sort of thing anymore," Christine offered. "But I don't care about an explanation. It doesn't matter what caused this."

"Have you taken him to a doctor?" the Persian inquired.

"Doctors?" Raoul asked. "In a small town in Norway? They wouldn't know anything about this."

"I don't want to talk about it," Christine begged. "I accept that it's a coincidence, and you should, too... I should make tea-"

"Stay with the baby," Raoul said. "I'll do that."

"But I-" She faltered as he left and, with a dejected look, went to sit down by the Persian.

"You're a very brave woman," he told her.

She didn't know how to reply. "You as well. Very brave- man, of course."

"How are you both faring?"

"Quite well under the circumstances. We are content in each other's company."

They were silent for a moment. The clouds parted outside, letting in a pure ray of sunlight. Amadeus shut his eyes against the onslaught and began to fuss.

"I'll take him," Christine offered, her arms reaching out instinctively.

"I had a child of my own, once," he replied as he placed his hand over Amadeus' eyes. "I am quite content if you are."

She faltered in surprise. "Yes."

"It's been some time since I held an infant. He's so fragile... was he born early?"

"I don't know. I don't think so."

He nodded. The sunlight faded and Amadeus settled. Christine tucked his blanket further against his side.

"I have an early Christmas gift for you and your husband," the Persian said as he wrapped Amadeus' tiny fist about his finger. "Though it is not from me, exactly."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you know Erik was wealthy."

She faltered. "I assumed so."

"And he had no one in his life to accept that wealth when he passed."

Her eyes widened as her throat grew tight. "What do you mean?"

"He left it all in my care, to give it to you upon his death. But you left so quickly, I hardly had time... He distributed the money to two separate banks and placed both accounts in your name."

"How... how much?"

He hesitated. "I believe your husband ought to be in the room for that. It is a matter of finances, after all."

She rose from the sofa.

"Raoul, dear?" she called. "Could you come in for a moment?"

"What is it?" he asked, emerging from the kitchen. "I just put the tea on."

"The Persian has something important to tell us."

Raoul nodded for him to continue. The Persian chuckled lightly.

"You may want to take a seat, Monsieur de Chagny," he said.

Raoul placed himself in an armchair and rested his elbows on his knees. The Persian cleared his throat.

"Madame de Chagny," he said, "is currently in the possession of two million francs."

Their blue eyes widened at once. Raoul stiffened in his seat as Christine ran a hand through her blonde curls.

"Two _million_?" she asked breathlessly. "That can't be right."

The Persian nodded. "I have checked it five times. It is correct... He was very happy to know you would have it."

"He?" Raoul questioned. "He left that all to her?"

"Well, as you are married, to you both. It was to ensure your happiness. He made that very clear to me."

Raoul fell silent. His eyes were dark. Christine stood up and paced for a moment.

"Two million?" she asked again. "That cannot be correct. He had two million francs just sitting in a bank?"

"Yes."

"Had he stolen it?"

He shrugged. "Not from anyone who could not spare it, that I know, and none of it is tainted by any deaths or such. It was- for Erik, that is- honest money. He had an occupation of sorts, after all."

"Raoul!" Christine declared happily. "Oh, Raoul, you can buy a boat! You always talk about it! Our own sailboat- and you can teach Amadeus how to sail, too! Isn't it wonderful? Oh, I can't believe it! I can't..."

She sat back down on the sofa, suddenly unsure of herself. Her smile faded. Tears crept into her eyes.

"He had that money for me," she whispered. "For when we were... going to be married..."

"Perhaps, but in the end, all he wanted was your happiness."

"It is not my right. You must keep it," she told the Persian. "Raoul wouldn't want it anyway, not after all Erik did-"

"No," Raoul interjected. "That money is your right, my dear. It hardly pays off his debt to you, but it is something, and it is yours."

He kneeled down in front of her and took her hands in his. She inhaled shakily. He looked up at her, his eyes bright.

"I'm going to teach Amadeus to sail," he told her. "Just as you said- once he's old enough. We'll buy a house with lots of bedrooms, and hire a nursemaid, and have as many children as you like. You can have anything you want now."

She threw her arms around him and began to cry.

"Oh, all I want is you," she whispered. "Only you, and I shall be the happiest woman on earth!"


End file.
